


Kings Blade

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [175]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski in Love, King Derek Hale, M/M, Sick Stiles Stilinski, Worried Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-17 20:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14196918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: There once was a Kingdom far-far away, the King handsome and blessed with beauty even the Gods envied. But although this King could have any lord and lady of his choice, there was but one that ruled his heart.





	Kings Blade

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there.  
> I feel a need to warn you all, I’m not at my best at the moment. Grief has struck me hard once more, leaving me pretty much a sobbing mess. I'm honestly surprised to learn it's April now, a month passed without me even noticing it, which set a few alarm-bells ringing.  
> I’m trying to get back to being me, since I need to try and shake-off the heavy weight that has fallen upon me, which is why I declared I was ready to do another round of 15 Minutes (hopefully this will push me back into writing or rather updating other tales). 
> 
> Now to those who aren’t familiar with this series, I shall warn you, each tale is written in 15minutes so be prepared for plenty of mistakes and crappy writing. One of my six friends will give me a path to take when it comes to these tales, and the rest is up to me. 
> 
> My friend, who for this time around is called Abandoned-Ambition, wanted a fic with King Derek Hale and Assassin or Knight Stiles. She wanted Derek to be in love with Stiles, and if possible for Stiles to love Dere too. Abandoned-Ambition also wanted Stiles to be sick or dying, but I wasn't really eager to kill Stiles, at least not yet or in this fic.

The Great King hurried into the grand castle, a castle that had grown as the power and prestige of the Hale’s grew. The Hale fortune had been gained through wars won and exploration made, progressive thinking had aided surely the development of wealth and power in the Hale land.

 The muddied boots of the impressive royal leaves a horrid mess behind him, rainwater that had soaked him to a bone dripped off of his strong body as he made his way towards the bedchamber of his young lover. The chill brought on by the heavy autumn rain and cold winds that promised that winter was on its way, the rain and wind had chased him all the way to the castle and made his movements stiff and ungraceful. His steps were slow and lacking the majestic grace he maintained even in battle. The strong heart of the King beat with a terrible fierceness not experienced before, not even when Death had threatened to claim him on the bloodied fields of battle or when he’d faced assassins. This was a new and terrible beat.

 Moving through the dark corridors where candles and torches fought the heavy darkness, a darkness that seemed to threaten to consume everything, the good King would not mind the world ending if indeed Death had come to claim the one the King loved, the one who loved the King as a man and not a sovereign.

 When no one was around to open doors for the king, the majesty opened these obstacles with unnecessary amount of force, breaking more than one door as he hurried towards he beloved. The King climbed each set of stairs with fear of loss heavy in his heart, the King feared he too would be remembered as the Mad King if he lost his beloved Stiles.

 Anyone who dare cross the distressed Kings path as he hurried towards the bedchamber of the one he loved the most, a bedchamber he’d personally arranged for the young man who had saved his life when only a child. If anyone dared to be in his way was threatened with imprisonment if they did not move away from Kings path quickly enough.

 When the courier brought the dreadful news that his beautiful, faithful Blade lay at deaths door there was nothing that could keep the King from reaching his one true companion. Without a word to his host King Hale left the hunting lodge.

 There was no storm, no matter how great, could’ve kept the good King from reaching his lover. He’d raced to the great castle where he had been born and which had been the home of his Blade for many years, pushing his fastest steed to the point of exhaustion that the beautiful creature collapsed just outside the castle walls.

 None dared to halt the King as he entered the familiar chamber, for every soul within the castle knew how truly deep the affections of their King lay.

 Entering the now dark and grim chamber that had been freed of the rich tapestries and soft furs, the fine rugs and furs all lost to the flames as were many other fine things the King had gifted his young lover and protector. The desperate King was greeted by familiar thick smoke as he entered the chamber that was connected to his own, the smoke designed to chase the illness away made the eyes of the King water and his throat burn.

 The physicians knew to care for the young man as if _he_ was the King himself, to focus all their efforts to save the young life that had saved the Kings more than once. In hopes of saving the life the King cherished the most, these men of considerable age worked together instead of against one another. The death of the young Blade might bring the end of these physicians and each of them knew it.

 The whole room vanished from around the distraught King, all the man who carried the heavy Hale crown on his proud head could see was the bed in which he’d spent many hours in, his body wrapped around the younger man who had stolen all of his affection.

 The state of his beloved broke the royal heart, and if he’d been a weaker man and unfamiliar with devastation and grief the King would’ve broken down in tears.

 The Kings once proud, strong, lively lover was now but a ghostly remnant of the one the King knew and loved. The once beautiful faire skin was now deathly pale, there were dark circles that sat beneath the eyes that had captured his fancy many years prior. The slender body that was so much stronger than one might think, appeared starved with delicate bones now more prominent beneath the once so warm skin.

 Moving over to the bed, each step slow and silent against the wooden floors, not one man spoke against his approach knowing such a thing would be of no use, the King would sit with his ailing lover no matter the danger to his own life.

 The King failed to understand how much only a few days apart had managed to change his lover.

 Questioning whether or not this was a simple illness and not some foul magic, after all he’d used his Blade against many of his enemies before taking the young man as his Lover, the King took his familiar seat upon the edge of the fine bed. As he had done on the early hours of the morning when he left for the hunt, the King gently reached out towards his beloved who no longer slept peaceful after a long night spent with his King.

 The stark difference between this young man and the one the King had kissed softly goodbye was stark, there was no healthy glow to the fine skin that he’d kissed and touched in private moments held a shade of death.

 Delicately King Hale took the hand that held the simple ring that spoke of a union of two hearts and souls, a simple ring without flashy stones that would’ve diminished the value of said ring and the oath bound to it, and oath the King had made beneath the gaze of the full-moon as he gently slipped the simple ring on the long and fine finger of his Blade, a Blade only the King was ever allowed to address as Stiles.

 Bringing up the hand that was so skilled in bringing pleasure and comfort to the King who was never meant to wear the crown, the King pressed his lips softly against the now unnaturally cold hand, placing a kiss that would feel familiar to his lover.

 The slow wheezing breaths of his young lover who had saved his life more than once, each breath the younger male took seemed to rattle mercilessly within the chest the King had often rested his head upon, listening with pleasure to the once powerfully beating heart. With each exhale the King feared a slow inhale would not follow.

 `My Love, ´ the King spoke softly to his young companion, leaning down to kiss the clammy forehead of his lover, `The keeper of my heart, leave me not. ´

 With a gentle hand the King caressed the fever-flushed cheek. The tenderness with which he treated the now bedridden young man was one that no other was ever blessed to experience.

 `Leave me not, ´ the King pleaded softly, `Leave me not, when my heart still beats. Leave me not before I am old and frail. Leave me not when I am not ready to let you go. ´

 

  **~*~**

 

The King remained at his Beloveds side for many days and nights, refusing to leave due to the fear that the one he loved would depart if left alone. The King was determined to remain at the bedside of his young love for as long as it took for the sickness to pass. Night and day the King remained at his Lovers side, tending to him the best to his abilities.

 The King did his best to keep the pale young man clean and comfortable, washing the body he’d worshipped daily clean several times a day, his Majesty refused to allow another to tend to his Lover in this way. It wasn’t the possessive side that made King Hale take charge of his Beloved’s hygiene and care, it was the knowledge of how uncomfortable his beautiful companion was whenever his body received unwanted attention, and because the King adored his beloved he tended to him alone.

 The King undressed and redressed his beloved alone, saving the modesty of his beautiful lover.

 There was not a day when the King did not whisper pleads, words of devotion to the man he loved the most, even before his beloved fell ill the King had whispered words of affection and devotion to the one and only being the King found himself able to love.

 When the desperate King was told by his physicians to prepare for the passing of the young, the good King chased everyone out of the chamber even her beloveds closest friend who had far too easily accepted the unkind verdict of the royal physicians. The distraught King raged and roared against the gods until exhaustion finally silenced him, laying down beside the young man he loved the most, carefully cradling his beloved close.

 `I beg you, ´ the King cried against clammy temple of his Lover who by appearance alone did not appear all that deadly or capable of doing harm, but who was none the less capable of stealing a life with or without a weapon in hand.

 `I beg you, Stiles, I beg you. I beg you, leave me not. ´ the King softly pleaded, `I need you, I need you more than I’ve needed anyone. ´ The King weeps, hugging the now incredibly frail body closer. 

 `By my crown, I swear, ´ he whispers softly against the deathly pale skin, `I will make you my proper husband, if only you’ll stay with me. Leave me not. Stay with me. Marry me, Stiles, marry me. ´ he begs desperately, ` Be my Husband, so that we may stay together even in death, so we can forever slumber side-by-side. ´

 Derek cries himself to sleep, exhaustion finally overpowering his own will to stay awake and alert. The slumber the King finally slips into is an uneasy one, full of dreadful dreams of death and loss and fears most great woven into one. The nightmarish rest felt shortly lived, thus making it difficult for the King to rise from his slumber when sensing something different in the air.

 `Stiles? ´ he manages to whisper into the otherwise silent room, the King cannot recognize his own voice for it is so weak and raspy.

 `Majesty, ´ he hears someone callout to him, this voice was as weak as the King felt, the King promptly ignored this unfamiliar voice, that sounded so much like that of an old man that he imagined it to belong to one of the physicians that were failing him and his beloved.

 Realizing, slowly, that his arms were empty the King turned his attention towards the man who had captured his heart, dread already spreading through him even before he is faced with the empty spot beside him.

 `No. ´ the choked out, his heart trembling within his aching chest while reaching out towards the empty spot in bed.

 ` No. No. Not my Stiles. ´ the King cries, rolling over to lay where his beautiful boy ought to be resting upon, hands fisting the cool sheets as his grief began to escape in the shape of tears.   

 The King couldn’t understand how his Blade, his Stiles could leave him? It felt wrong, against Stiles nature to leave him while he foolishly slept.  

 `My liege. My lord, please, calm yourself. ´ the physician Deaton says voice firm, `Calm yourself, you’ve exhausted yourself. You need your rest. ´ The words the physician spills are worthless, of no use for the devastated King who cares not if he walls ill and dies, at least in death he can join the only one capable of loving him as a man.  

 `Stiles! ´ Derek wails as his heart shatters within his chest, screaming for his beloved to return to him, to not leave him alone in a world where friends were quick to leave or stab him in the back for power.

 `What’s wrong with him? Is he ill? ´ a faint voice calls out, this voice that was laced with concern felt distant to the weeping King, someone settles beside the bed, the side of the bed that was Stiles’, the side where the

 `Please do not distress yourself, the King is not ill. His Majesty has exhausted himself. ´ the physician says, `His Majesty simply needs good rest. ´

 `The King of My heart, ´the faint and raspy voice says close to the Kings ear, and this voice that sounds hauntingly familiar even with all of the wheezing, `Please, look at me my love. Tell me, tell me what’s wrong? ´ 

 The King doubts his own mind as he swears this voice that was thick with worry, a voice that did not sound healthy and light as he was familiar with but which still did sound so real. The King thinks for a moment that perhaps the voice he hears speaking to him, pleading with him, was that of a phantom. The thought of being haunted by his lover gives the distressed King some small comfort.

 It is the hand, light and still too cold but none the less real with pale flesh and fragile bones, and the fine ring which had been especially made for the hand of the man who had captured the Kings heart, it is that ring that feels so cold against the flesh of the Kings own hand that finally draws the attention of the weeping man towards the kneeling figure.

 The face that greets him was still unhealthy pale and clammy, dark circles resting beneath eyes that weren’t as bright as they ought to be, the thin and fragile body was wrapped in robes and blankets, dwarfing the beautiful man who had killed skillfully and loved beautifully.

 `Stiles? ´

 `Majesty, you look positively dreadful. ´ he hears the younger man say, voice full of fondness and honesty, one of the many traits of his lover that King appreciated was the way the younger male was almost painfully honest with him. There’s a small tired smile pulling at the chapped lips that start bleed a little as the smile grows, ` `And here I was under the impression I was the ailing one. ´

 `Is it really you, my love? ´ the baffled King asks, reaching out to gently cup the side of his lovers face that carried a faint scar from a terrible event that nearly had stolen the life of his Blade, seeing his faithful Blade bloodied and broken had been the moment when the King had realized life was wasted when denying ones true affections.

 `Who else would I be? ´ the young man asks, while gazing into the eyes of his King, a King who was lost in the eyes that he knew from experience could change from earthy brown to rich auburn in the changing light of the sun, eyes that could go from amber to golden.

 `Majesty, are you truly so desperate for attention, that you would go to these lengths? I should not be surprised, I have spoiled you with attention. ´ the still sickly pale man says, resting the hand that had been gently rubbing the Kings back against the hand cradling his face as was the way between the two.

 It is the lack of guardedness in the words and voice of the Kings most cherished of possessions, a possession that had a will of its own that the King had never found a need to stifle or control that eases any doubts of reality that the good King might hold. There is but one soul in the Hale Kingdom who never needed to worry about possibly invoke the wrath of his Majesty, and that person was the Kings Blade.

 Gazing into the eyes that could be described a great many things such as liquid gold and drops of amber, but never simply brown, and seeing the life and will eases all tension from within the body of the King who had never dreamt of becoming the King, a King who had been ready to serve his sister Queen to best of his abilities before line of succession was altered by the blades of assassins.

 `It is, ´ the King whispers in wonder, `it is you. You’ve left me not. ´

 ` Silly little man of mine. ´ the words fall softly from chapped lips, ` Where else would I be, but with you. ´ the words are not a question, but a simple statement of a fact.

**Author's Note:**

> So in my head, Derek and Stiles crossed paths when they were both very young. Derek was destined to be king after his Uncle who had been killed (Mad-King Peter who became King after the death of his sister, her children viewed too young to wear the crown), but on the road back to his homeland after being sent abroad by those loyal to his mother and his sister Laura when Peter began to clear the way for his forever rule he and his men are attacked.
> 
> Now near the road where Derek and his men were attacked, a young orphan by the name of Stiles walks. Seeing a bunch of heavily armed men manhandle a young male, forcing the young man down to his knees and ready to strike the killing blow which wasn't alright for someone like Stiles, and so Stiles leaps into action.
> 
> After saving Derek's life, and helping him back to the place he'd once called home, during their long journey Derek and Stiles become friends and in the end Derek just can't lose Stiles, asking him to stay with him and so Stiles does.


End file.
